The Reckoning (Legacy of the King's Pirates)

by Marylu Tyndall

  Morgan's pulse leapt at his harsh tone, even as her stomach soured. Only moments before he'd been gazing at her as if she were the answer to all his dreams. Now, he dismissed her as if she'd been just a temporary diversion, an entertainment that had outlived its fun.

  Raising a hand to her throat, she fled out the door and into the companionway, unavoidable tears spilling down her cheeks.

  She shouldn't be here. Not on a pirate ship, nor in the seventeenth century. She'd gotten caught up in the adventure, the romance. But Rowan was a pirate through and through. A capricious, thieving, womanizing pirate. And she'd been a fool to think she could change him.

  No, she must find a way back home--back to her own time and her own life.

  Chapter 27

  Rowan cursed himself for a foolish rogue. Despite the pain of his injuries, the last three days with Morgan had been the best of his life. He'd never met anyone like this intriguing lady. Ofttimes, he grew bored in his conversations with women--the few he'd tried to talk to, anyway--but he could never predict what Morgan would say. Not once. Her stories were witty and interesting, her descriptions fun and lively, her interests akin to many of his own. Her laughter was an elixir to his soul, and her smile never failed to make his heart swell.

  In truth, he could spend a lifetime looking at that smile.

  So why had he become so enraged and dismissed her so rudely? Over what? God? The God who had ignored Rowan his entire life? Let Morgan--and his sister and those sissies, Charlisse and Merrick--believe what they would, but Rowan would not allow a distant God to interfere with his courtship of this enchanting lady.

  Which is why he'd planned a special supper just for her. He'd ordered Edith to cook up a batch of turtle stew, complete with yams, pickled onions, and mango soaked in rum for dessert. One of the crew had polished the silver and candlesticks, while another had found the cleanest scrap of sailcloth to be used as a tablecloth. Now as Rowan stared at the table, steam rising from the food housed in pewter bowls and plates, candlelight sparkling over the silverware, he grew unusually nervous.

  What if she didn't come? He'd sent Nick to invite her a few minutes ago, but it seemed like hours had passed as he waited for a peek at her coming down the companionway. He straightened the lace at the cuffs of his finest cambric shirt, then brushed invisible dust from his best doublet, trimmed in gold braid. With his hair pulled back and his jaw as clean shaven as he could get it with his knife, he awaited his fate, nearly laughing at all this ridiculous behavior for one woman.

  His glance took in the ruby amulet lying atop his desk. A knot formed in his stomach. He resisted the urge to quickly shove it into his desk drawer. Instead, he slipped it in his pocket as a reminder that he'd determined to ask Lady Minx a question tonight. But it was her answer that terrified him more than anything. Forcing down his fears, he gazed out the stern windows at a night that was as black and restless as his spirit.

  Voices met his ears, spinning him around to see Nick, a victorious grin on his face, step inside the cabin and give a mock bow. "Miss Morgan Shaw," he announced the lady with all the aplomb of a courtier.

  The lady, decked in her usual green skirts and cream-colored bodice, halted at the doorway, her expression hesitant as those lustrous moss-colored eyes met his.

  He extended his hand. "Miss Shaw, thank you for accepting my invitation."

  His smile seemed to disarm her as she entered further, her gaze scanning the candlelit table, surprise brightening her expression.

  "I'll leave ye t' yer supper." Nick bowed out and Rowan thanked him as he shut the door and faced her.

  "I hope you'll accept my apology for my atrocious behavior earlier today."

  She eyed him suspiciously. "You clean up well, Rowan. If I had known, I would have dressed for the occasion." She turned away, but not before pain burned in her eyes. "What is it you want? Are you trying to bribe me?"

  "Lud, woman." He ran a hand through his hair, loosening strands from his tie. "You use me monstrously yet again. How can I assure you of my sincerity?"

  She sashayed to the table, still not meeting his gaze. "I was only thinking of your happiness, Rowan. Maybe I overstepped my place, but I just want you to have the joy and peace I've found in God."

  He approached and held out a chair for her to sit. "I do not fault you for it, Lady Minx. I only ask that we not discuss religion tonight."

  "Deal." She smiled up at him and took a seat.

  Their meal passed in pleasant conversation. And though Rowan found his appetite had abandoned him, he took great pleasure in watching Morgan enjoy her food. Why, the lady even finished an entire glass of wine!

  He pushed back from his plate and sipped his rum, relishing the way candlelight glinted in her eyes, transformed her skin into translucent silk, and set aglimmer strands of red amongst her brown hair--hair that flowed around her face and down her back like a satiny waterfall. "I've never seen you eat so much."

  "Oh my." She giggled and placed a hand over her mouth. "I'm such a pig. I'm so sorry." She washed down her food with another sip of wine. "I don't know why I'm so hungry."

  "Please continue. I'm glad you are enjoying it."

  She sat back and pressed a hand over her stomach. "I've had too much already. But thank you. For all of this."--she waved a hand over the candlelit table--"I didn't figure you for the romantic type."

  Rowan lifted his brows. "'Tis unclear what you mean, Lady Minx, but I will admit to knowing what pleases a lady."

  Suspicion swept away the playful interest on her face, and he reached his hand across the table for hers, hoping to bring it back. Hesitantly ... reluctantly, she took it. He caressed her fingers, seeking the right words to express feelings he couldn't even understand himself. "I vow to spend all my days devising ways to bring you pleasure. If you'll allow me."

  She studied him, her eyes flickering between his. He knew he affected her. He knew she desired him, for her chest rose and fell, and her skin warmed beneath his touch. But did her affections go beyond the physical--something he had never sought from a woman before.

  "Whatever you wish," he said. "Ask and I will grant it."

  Tender yearning filled her eyes, and for a moment he thought she'd surely come to him and fall into his arms. Instead, she jerked her hand away and stood.

  "I wish to finish the painting."

  Not exactly what he had in mind. He groaned inwardly. "I'm not in the correct attire."

  "I have only a few more strokes." She hurried to stand behind the canvas, skirts swishing. "Just sit in your same spot and look my way."

  He happily obliged. He would never forget these past three days, watching her as she painted him. The way her lips twisted as she concentrated on the canvas, the slight wrinkle above her pert little nose, and the intensity of her gaze upon him--as if he were important ... valuable. Something he'd never felt before. He loved hearing the sound of her voice as she shared stories of her life--strange but beguiling tales of a distant land in a distant time. Yet, stories that contained everything that made Morgan, Morgan. And he had lived for her every word.

  Now, however, it only took her a few minutes, a few dips in paint and splashes on the canvas, and she rose, beaming at him as if she'd just found buried treasure.

  "Are you going to show me, Lady Minx?" Though in defiance of his promise, he'd stolen a peek at the canvas after the first day, but he'd not seen it since.

  She laid a hand on her stomach. "I don't know why I'm so nervous." Then gripping the tripod by the base, she slowly turned it around, all the while studying his reaction.

  Rowan saw himself staring back at him. A pirate. A gentleman. A man scarred by life. A perfect portrait, exquisitely shaded and vibrantly colored. But it was so much more than that. She'd captured something in him, in his eyes, that he'd never seen in himself, that he didn't know could exist within him. Hope ... and love.

  "You hate it." Her disappointed tone brought his eyes to hers.

  He rose, shaking his head. "Na
y. 'Tis exquisite. 'Tis ... utterly and completely perfect. You have great talent, Lady Minx."

  Candlelight glittered off her smile. "You think so? Really?"

  "But you haven't signed it." He pointed toward the bottom. "You must sign it so everyone will know 'twas the great artist Lady Minx who created such a masterpiece."

  An odd look came over her face as she shifted her gaze between him and the painting as if she just remembered something important. Then picking up a brush, she leaned and painted in small letters on the bottom right, LM. "Lady Minx." Laughing, she stood back to admire her work. "It's been Lady Minx all along. I'm the famous pirate painter!" She shook her head.

  He had no idea what she was talking about--as usual--but he came to stand beside her and dared to wrap an arm about her waist. Instead of moving away from him, she put down the brush and turned into his embrace.

  "Oh, Rowan. What is it about you, you crazy pirate?" She glanced up at him and smiled, her eyes moistening.

  He brushed his hand over her cheek. "Thank you for forgiving me."

  "Who says I did?" She cocked her head.

  "Your eyes."

  "And what else do my eyes tell you?"

  "That you love me."

  She pushed back from him playfully. "Oh, they do, do they? A bit full of yourself, aren't you?"

  "If that means what I think it means, then aye." He pulled her back and wrapped his arms around her once again. "And I can prove it." He lowered his lips to hers, gently, softly at first, then upon feeling her passion rise, he cupped her cheeks in his hands and went deeper, relishing in the intimacy of the moment and her tiny moans of pleasure. He wanted more of her, not just physically, but in every way.

  And the realization scared him to death.

  Withdrawing from the kiss, she leaned her head on his chest.

  He stroked her hair. "Say you'll stay with me, Morgan."

  "As what? Your mistress?" Her voice, still husky with desire, was laced with despair.

  "I prefer the term lady companion."

  She stepped away from him, leaving him cold. "And just what would that entail? Sleeping with you, I suppose?"

  "One of the many benefits." He grinned, but she wasn't smiling anymore. 'Twas as if a shadow had encompassed her. She lowered her chin.

  He brought it back up with a touch of his finger. "I'm not the type of man to commit to lifelong marriage. I live my life on the whim of what comes each day. 'Twould be cruel to promise you any more than that."

  "Or cowardly?" She huffed. "Besides, who said anything about marriage?" She moved to his desk and fingered some of the trinkets. "Think about what are you offering me, Rowan." She spun to face him. "To live on this pirate ship with you? At risk daily of being raped by one of your men or blown up in one of your raids?" Anger burned in her eyes. "You think you have so much to offer a woman because you're handsome and charming and you might be good in bed. That may suffice for other men's wives or loose women looking for a good time. But it isn't enough for me." She lifted her chin and stared staunchly into his eyes. "I am God's princess and worthy of an honorable, good man who will commit to me for a lifetime. I will be no man's mistress, nor will I give myself or my body away to someone who can toss me aside when they grow tired of me."

  Rowan felt like he'd been blasted by a broadside. He'd never had a woman speak to him thus. He'd never allowed it. Nor had he ever considered any woman worthy of a lifelong commitment.

  Not until he'd met Morgan Shaw.

  Her anger fled, and she lowered her gaze, black lashes fanning her cheeks like felled trees in a forest. One tear broke through and slid down her face. "I love you, Rowan. I know I'm crazy to feel that way, but I can't help it."

  She loved him! He started toward her. "Then stay with me. I will make you happy, I promise."

  She held up a hand to stop him. "Don't go for the treasure tomorrow, Rowan. Give up that quest and return home. Give me some reason to believe you'll change."

  "You ask the impossible. I cannot return to my sister with nothing."

  She hugged herself as another tear spilled down her cheek. He wanted to wipe it away. He wanted to tell her he'd quit pirating, become a pauper, a monk ... whatever it took, just so she'd stay with him.

  Instead, he reached in his pocket and pulled out the amulet.

  Her eyes widened.

  "I've never felt this way about anyone," he said. "Nor have I asked any woman to be my lady. There is something special between us, something most people never experience. I cannot promise you I will change, but I can promise you that I love you. So I leave the choice up to you. To choose me or choose to go back to your time and leave me forever."

  ♥♥♥

  Clank! Clank! Clank! The sound of a massive chain rattled through Morgan's sleepy mind. Muffled shouts ensued, followed by the thump of feet, and finally a mighty splash. She reached up to rub eyes that felt caked in mud. Hadn't she just fallen asleep? It couldn't be morning already. She glanced over to look for Edith, but she was gone and the bedding on her cot neatly made.

  Morgan closed her eyes again beneath a rising headache. Purring rumbled beside her, and she absently reached to pet Blackbeard who'd been her only comfort throughout the long night. She hoped she hadn't kept Edith up with her endless pacing, but how was she to sleep after Rowan's ultimatum? The amulet had been right there in his hand--possibly her only way home. All she had to do was grab it, and if it worked, all this craziness would end. She could return to her family and friends and her normal, safe life. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Not with the love and desperation pouring from Rowan's eyes. And not with the way her heart nearly disintegrated at the thought of never seeing him again.

  So, she'd given him an ultimatum in return. Give up his quest for treasure, just this one time, and prove to her he was willing to change. If he could do that, she'd stay away from the amulet. Regardless of whether it could send her home or not, she'd remain with Rowan and help him become the man God wanted him to be.

  Sitting, she swung her legs over the edge of the hard bunk and dropped her head in her hands. More shouts echoed from above, and she tried to decipher the voices, seeking the one that made her feel more alive than ever before ... yet all the while listening for the sounds of a boat being lowered and Rowan departing--final proof that he loved his treasure more than her.

  She would not face him until she knew--had told him as much. And so she sat, listening as the ship teetered and creaked and the water lapped against the hull--all sounds that told her they had stopped and were anchored somewhere.

  Blackbeard nudged her before squeezing between her arms to plop on her lap.

  "You wouldn't go after the treasure and leave me, would you, little one?" She stroked his fur. "Even if you are named after a mean ol' pirate."

  He stretched and rolled on his back so she could rub his belly. She happily complied for several minutes before he leapt back onto her cot and snuggled among the blankets.

  An unpleasant smell rose from the dress she'd been wearing for a week, so she passed the time trying to clean it as best she could--along with herself--with the water Edith had left in the basin. Her kingdom for a bar of soap, deodorant, or some perfume. But that wasn't going to happen. So she did her best to make herself presentable. Not that it mattered because the noises drifting down from above confirmed her worst fears.

  Forcing back tears, she lowered back onto the cot and waited for the sound of the boat pushing off from the hull. There it was--the thud of oars striking wood. Her heart turned to sand. Rising, she drew a deep breath, opened the door, and headed to Rowan's cabin.

  As she entered, dawn's light curled fingers of gold through the stern windows, shimmering over the remnants of their romantic dinner last night, reminding her of the special time they'd shared, eating, talking, laughing ... kissing. She touched her lips, her heart soaring at the memory. To her right, the painting stared at her--with that look of complete adoration she'd captured in his eyes. The one she'd f
irst seen on the replica of this ship back in San Diego. She hadn't been completely sure it was the same painting until yesterday when she'd put the final touches on it. Then when the realization hit her that she'd signed it LM for Lady Minx, her head had spun with shock. Apparently she had a future in painting pirates if she remembered what the silly tour guide had said on the replica. Which meant she was supposed to stay, wasn't she? Groaning, she rubbed her temples. Impossible!

  But God was a God of the impossible, wasn't He?

  She drew a deep breath. The cabin smelled like Rowan, spice and man, and she hoped it would steady her nerves, but it only caused her heart to sink. Not ready to leave this time quite yet, she moved to the window where a white sandy beach surrounded by lush greenery oscillated in and out of view. The Caribbean was so beautiful. Particularly in its natural state before commercialism took over and resorts rose on every shore. She would miss it.

  She would miss Rowan most of all.

  "Father, I don't know why this happened to me, but I know You are making all things work out for the best. Please give me strength to do what I must." What she had sworn to do if Rowan continued his quest for the treasure, proving he would never change and she could never trust him.

  Wiping away a tear, she spun to face the desk and opened the top right drawer where Rowan said he would place the amulet for her to decide. On the off chance it didn't work, she would insist he deposit her at the next port, or, better yet, take her to Kingston, where she would eventually run across Charlisse and Merrick. Surely they would help her get on her feet. Either way, she was in God's capable hands.

  She reached into the drawer.

  It wasn't there. She sifted through the contents, then searched the other drawers, and finally scanned the top of the desk.

  She stomped her foot. "Liar! Beast!"

  "Och now, ye wouldna by chance be referring t' Rowan?"

  Morgan looked up to see Nick leaning against the door post.

  "He lied to me!"

  Nick cocked a brow. "And tha' surprises ye, lass?"